Golden Moments in Burgundy, France

Golden Moments in Burgundy, France

It is no wonder why Bourgogne, or Burgundy, is known as the Côte d’Or. During our July sojourn in France’s ‘Golden Hillsides,’ the region’s fields were ablaze with vibrant tournesols (sunflowers), freshly-groomed wheat, and vineyards – where still-maturing grapes glistened with dew.

In the villages of Burgundy, sand-colored stone homes were accented with shutters painted in hues of Williamsburg blue, deep ivy green and terracotta. Delicate geraniums overflowed from window boxes, while the tantalizing aromas – from toasted baguettes, boeufbourguignon and a Dijon vinaigrette – swirled down the streets. In cafés and restaurants, blond Chardonnay flooded glasses. The scintillating wine seemed tailor-made for such balmy Burgundian summer evenings.

From the weathered buildings, friendly faces and individuals with lively personalities emerged. Periodically, vintage Citroëns rolled onto the scene, creating circa 1940 vignettes that were quintessentially French. One such classic voiture even ushered in a serendipitous moment that would be one of the highlights of our time in Burgundy.

One glorious afternoon, my husband, Shawn, and I turned onto a back road seemingly forgotten. As it was Sunday, most of the village’s homes and shops were shuttered and quiet. A few children kicked about a soccer ball under the protective shade of graceful, old Sycamore trees. Near a small town square, there was a statue erected to honor France’s sons who were lost during the past century’s world wars. I hopped out of our car to play shutterbug before a rustic home with windows that were wide open. A creamy Citroën stood guard.

Out of nowhere appeared Régis, a gregarious Frenchman who was happy to share travel tips with us. He mentioned that the subject of my photograph was his ancestral home – a somewhat-dilapidated structure formerly belonging to a vintner. The home was more than 700 years-old. The clumsy old Citroën was also his.

“Voulez-vous partager une bouteille du vin de 1982?” he asked.

“Mais oui!” we exclaimed. It was difficult to decline such a generous offer to share the wine. And so it was that we were welcomed into the home that Régis and his son dreamed of restoring.

Wishing to reciprocate the hospitality that he’d been extended in past times while traveling through Africa and the United States, the agricultural engineer dusted off the 1982 Cabernet, removed its steadfast cork and unveiled a ruby red stream. As we later inched up chatty wooden stairs and ceramic-tiled hallways with glasses in hand, Régis proceeded to share tales from his life in La Réunion, where he spends most of his days. He showed us a creaky, old, wooden beam resting precariously on a disintegrating stone in the attic.

“I have nightmares,” he explained, “that someday that rock might crumble.” If it were to do so, the home’s terracotta roof would crash.

As the wine flowed, Régis mischievously led us to a hiding place in the garage’s brick wall, not far from where a dismembered Citroën stood. It was there, he explained, that he found a cartridge of 10 mm bullets. He explained that the home had been taken over by the German military in World War II. Items were broken by the German soldiers, who had also consumed much of the family’s wine. The village’s mayor would later pass on reparations in the form of a check, but the bullets would remain hidden in the wall until Régis uncovered them decades later.

As we meandered through rooms seemingly forgotten for centuries, Régis explained that the wine had been destined for the United States two and a half decades earlier. For whatever reason, it did not make it across the Atlantic to the country France helped achieve its independence.

It only seemed fitting, then, that the 1982 Cabernet would later be shared with two Americans, a day before Independence Day, under the golden Burgundian sun.

Rust gives a vintage sign character in the village of Puligny-Montrachet (left), and a barrel adorned with bottles (right).A stone home in the countryside, beside a golden field.

A winery courtyard (left) and long line of wrought-iron street lamps (right).Pink hydrangeas fill a flowerbed in a winery’s courtyard.

A carousel in the city of Beaune twinkles at dusk.The Château de Meursault, where we sampled wine.A road passing through some of Burgundy’s most prestigious vineyards. (In French, Grands Crus means ‘great growth.’)Petunias thrive inside the ruined frame of a window.Wine harvesting baskets decorate a courtyard.A classic Citroën, parked in front of Régis’ ancestral home.Régis’ vintage car and the home of his grandmother, which he and his son hope to restore.A sundial (left) and the 1982 Cabernet Sauvignon Régis shared with us.Shawn and me, enjoying wine with Régis.Régis shows us the compartment where the cartridge of World War Two-era bullets hidden for decades.A close-up of the World War Two-era cartridge of bullets.The sun prepares to set over a vineyard.Pretending to conduct a sea of sunflowers.

Where in the World?

Planning Pointers:

While in Burgundy, Shawn and I spent the bulk of our time in the pretty city of Beaune (with its celebrated medieval hospital with a gorgeous tiled roof) as well as the villages of Meursault and Puligny-Montrachet. For more information about the region, see the official tourism site of Burgundy.

Gracias, Mag. Regis’ home was reminiscent of ‘Under the Tuscan Sun.’ What a memorable afternoon it was there in his courtyard! Shawn was the photographer extraordinaire as I made that conducting debut later that evening. :) I’m glad he embraced my zeal for those golden fields of happy blooms!

I would love to work for your new travel company. ; -) Let me know when you have any openings… <3
You should have done this years ago; you never cease to amaze me.
I adore you. Missing our long talks o the phone. Love you!

I’ll keep you posted, Laura! I also wish I would’ve started sooner – I have many travel journals filled with lots of scribbles from throughout the years, but just hadn’t discovered WordPress. Let’s talk soon! xo, Trish.

Melinda, thank you for your kind comment. This stranger’s kindness made our spontaneous 3-day visit to Burgundy special! Next time, I’d like to devote more time to just strolling in the villages and countryside.